


Steve Rogers:  Spider Transporter

by LagLemon



Series: Steve Rogers:  Spider Transporter [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Arachnophobia, Arguing, Cuddling & Snuggling, Exhaustion, Fluff, M/M, Misunderstandings, Spiders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-03
Updated: 2013-01-03
Packaged: 2017-11-22 06:11:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/606667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LagLemon/pseuds/LagLemon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve hears something strange and goes to investigate - what he finds surprises him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Steve Rogers:  Spider Transporter

**Author's Note:**

> ** Warnings for spiders***
> 
> I really wanted to write some fluff... and this is what came from it.
> 
> Also, I went over and combed through this to get it a bit more polished :)

It started in the bathroom a few rooms away; a low, breathy sound that had Steve concerned that something had gone terribly wrong. He closed his book, turning to face the hallway, confused. He had only ventured up to Tony’s penthouse because he had wanted to catch the genius slinking back into the world of the living so that they could talk. It felt a little like he was intruding now, with that noise ringing out.

“Jarvis? What’s that noise?” He asked, setting the book down on the coffee table.

“Mr. Stark requires your assistance sir, if you would be so kind.” Jarvis replied, sounding rather amused, although a bit concerned as well. Steve supposed that Tony had built the AI, so if something was wrong it probably _did_ get concerned for his safety. He wondered if Tony had programmed Jarvis like that on purpose. An artificial person having feelings seemed odd to him, but then again he was living in Stark Tower and a lot of things here seemed odd. Maybe Tony had been going through a phase, or something. That’s what Fury always said, although Steve wasn’t quite sure if he could trust the man.

He made his way to the bathroom with Jarvis’s help, weaving through the rest of the floor as easily as he might a minefield. He had only just moved in to the tower a few days ago, and he couldn’t help but flinch every time he walked around, afraid that he might accidentally break something. He knew that a few of the things sitting around were worth a pretty penny; Natasha had mentioned it in passing, and he hadn’t been able to keep from cringing away from them ever since. He kind of wished that she hadn’t told him. It might have been easier to come back from his morning jog if he didn’t have to worry about destroying a fifty thousand dollar vase by accident when he tried to towel the sweat off.

“Uh, is Tony in the bathroom?” Steve asked, approaching the only closed door in the hallway. A quick look in each room as he passed made him pretty sure he was asking a redundant question. He could hear that weird sound again, but it wasn’t as loud as it had been before. Should he _really_ be here? He wrinkled his nose. Surely Tony Stark had someone to go fetch his toilet paper for him, right? He probably had a robot to do that. Steve looked around but couldn’t see anything that fit the bill.

“Mr. Stark is in the bathroom, yes. If you would please open the door and help him out?”

Steve frowned at the doorknob and opened it anyways, hoping that he wasn’t walking into a disaster in the making. What he found inside both baffled and concerned him. Tony was standing on in the shower, half naked and shivering, screaming at the top of his lungs; well, he likely had been, at one point or another. The screaming had done in his throat, so now all he was really doing was making a shrill hissing noise. His shirt and pants were lying on the carpeted floor, half cast off as if he had been planning on taking a shower before being caught somehow, his dark red briefs drenched and sticking to his body.

Why the hell was Tony screaming?

Steve took a step into the room, wary of making things worse and when Tony locked eyes with him, he just _knew_ something was wrong. Tony looked shaken, his eyes wide with fear. He was pressed up against the tiled shower wall, keeping himself sealed inside with one foot jammed against the glass stall door. The water was running up above him; the goose bumps on his naked torso made it clear just how cold the water was at the moment, and Steve wondered idly why Jarvis hadn’t just turned it off.

“Tony? Are you alright?” Steve approached cautiously.

“Sp…” Tony managed hoarsely. “Sp…”

Sp? What the hell did _that_ mean?

“Sp? What’s wrong? It’s alright, you can tell me.” Steve asked, hoping to coax Tony into speaking. Tony shook his head wildly, gesturing to Steve with one wet finger; the shower continued to blast away, spraying him in the back of the head, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Spider!”

Steve blinked. He looked down at where Tony was pointing and saw the spider staring up at him from beside a fallen broom; it wasn’t one to be scoffed at either. The thing had to have been at least the size of a quarter, all brown and ugly as sin. Steve had seen ones like this in his Ma’s toolshed back in Brooklyn, and they had been just as hideous there too. It was a brown house spider; he had looked it up in an encyclopedia at school once because he had been worried that it might be poisonous. It wasn’t, but that didn’t make it any less creepy. In Tony’s modern bathroom, it looked out of place, a horror movie creation stepping out of the big screen.

“It’s ok little guy.” Steve said, looking around the room. He found a piece of paper and an empty glass lying on the floor, likely cast away when Tony had been finished with it. He commandeered it, rinsing it out so that nothing splashed on the horrible little fellow. The spider went easily, although it was a fast moving sucker and didn't seem to like the glass all that much. He slipped the paper under the rim of the glass and picked the impromptu trap up, walking it out of the bathroom.

“I have unlocked the balcony door for you sir.” Jarvis said as Steve made his way back into the living room. Steve nodded his head, thankful that he wouldn’t have to fight with the door. He had had one of these guys go up his arm once when he was little, and boy could they move when they wanted to.

With the spider safely disposed of, set gently down in a planter outside, Steve made his way back into the bathroom dusting off his hands.

Tony looked like an absolute wreck. In fact, he looked worse now than he had a few minutes before. He was wrapped in a fluffy blue towel, still huddled on his heels in the shower stall; the shower itself was turned off, and his eyes kept darting around the room, looking for an escape. One glance at Steve had him swallowing hard and looking away, very obviously ashamed. A faint pink tint came to his cheeks, his olive complexion a lot lighter than usual, chased away by the cold water.

“You alright?” Steve said, leaning against the door frame. “That was a pretty big one. They don’t usually get this far up apartment buildings.” It was strange to think of Tony Stark as being afraid of spiders, but he supposed everyone was allowed to be afraid sometimes. He couldn’t exactly blame Tony for not liking the sight of them; after all he had known quite a few people who hated them with a passion.

“I know.” Tony mumbled, struggling upright. He leaned against the door, his hands slipping against the glass. Steve got the door open and scooped him up, hefting him into the air before he could fall to the ground. He could smell whiskey on the billionaire’s breathe, the faint odor of motor oil following after like some kind of New Age cologne.

“Mr. Stark has not slept in seventy four hours. Could you please escort him to bed?” Jarvis asked from above.

“Seventy four hours? Is he crazy?” Steve blurted. Tony flinched against him, wrapping his arms around himself, winding the towel tighter around his slippery shoulders. “Oh well, let’s get you to bed.” Steve lifted Tony up higher, getting an arm under Tony’s hips to keep him from falling. Tony dangled for a moment and then adjusted to the new position, pressing heavily against Steve’s hip. It was a graceless way to carry a person, but at least he wasn’t dragging Tony across the floor.

“I believe he was finishing upgrades to Mr. Barton’s bow sir.”

“I see.” Steve carried Tony to bed, taking each step slowly, feeling Tony practically shake apart against him; Tony didn’t move, his eyes squeezed tightly shut the entire way down the hall. He only relaxed when Steve set him down on his bed, and even then it was only to curl his arms around himself tighter. Steve sat down beside him on the bed, fiddling with the covers, unsure whether he should take the damp towel away or not. Tony still looked a little wet, but at least he wasn’t dripping all over the sheets.  He wrestled with the urge to give Tony a good rub down with the towel; luckily, his common sense won out.

He and Tony had never really gotten along, although things had been getting better. They had been doing a lot of fighting lately, squabbling amongst themselves whenever the occasion presented itself. It was a nice banter, actually. Steve had missed that kind of thing, even if it was a bit annoying to constantly walk into arguments; he and Bucky had been like that too and butting heads every once in a while felt a little bit like being home again. He looked back at Tony, observing the way the smaller man seemed ready to bury his head under his blankets. He wasn’t really sure what to do. How was he supposed to offer comfort to a man he constantly argued with?

Luckily, Tony seemed to come back to himself after a few minutes of calm silence. He sat up, scrubbing a hand through his hair and looked genuinely embarrassed, pulling the towel out from under his body. He grinned, rubbing at his shoulders.

“Uh… sorry about that Rogers. Didn’t think it’d ever happen.”

“What?” Steve asked.

“The uh…” Tony cleared his throat, crossing his legs. “Spider. Thing.”

“I take it you don’t like them.” Steve said wryly. “It’s not a big deal.”

“No, no I do not. Can you… not say anything to anyone about that? It’s…” Tony sighed.

“Embarrassing?”

“Yes. That.”

“I won’t say anything, don’t worry.” Steve agreed, giving Tony a soft smile.

“Thanks. I’d really appreciate that.” Tony nodded his head rapidly, as if doing it too slowly would make Steve change his mind about not saying anything. He worried his lower lip with his teeth, staring down at his hands. “I uh… well… it seems silly now that I’m talking about it, but uh… when I was five there was one in my room.” Tony scowled down into his lap. “My mom was off at some retreat with a family friend and Jarvis was off visiting relatives, so I tried to get my dad to come get it, but he was always busy, you know? Well, you probably don’t know, because he always had time for – _never mind_. The point is, the damn thing crawled over my face when I went to sleep and I woke up with it in my _hair_. I’ve never really been able to go near one since. I would have had Dummy come get it or something, but I forgot to leave the door open.”

“Ah, I see.” Steve nodded. “And you didn’t want him to break down the door?”

“Actually… I’m lying. He can’t leave the lab.” Tony said a little sheepishly. “I usually have a broom to fend them off and all.”

“That didn’t help this time?”

“It came  _from_ the broom. Must have come in from the workshop. I thought I got all the air vents covered with mesh, but I guess I missed one.”

“Yeesh!” Steve shuddered at the thought. The last thing he would have wanted was to find a creepy crawly critter in something he carried around, especially when he was half naked and getting ready to shower.

“Tell me about it.” Tony sighed. “I feel like such an idiot, you know? It’s not usually this bad, but I had a couple of drinks and the thing just looked _massive_ , like it could have broken through the glass or something.”

“My Ma hated them too. I used to have to fish them out of the bathroom for her all the time. It was the one chore I could do, I guess. I got the spiders, and she kept me from getting pneumonia.” Steve chuckled, standing up. “She used to really holler too. You could hear her from around the block. The neighbors called the cops on us once because they thought someone was being murdered, and boy was it not fun explaining what was going on. The officer bust a gut, and when he saw the spider he damn near fell over, he was laughing so hard.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It’s probably still on record down at the police station. It wouldn’t surprise me if it was pinned to the wall for being the stupidest mistaken attempted murder call of all time. Mr. Dashall’s probably rolling in his grave as we speak.”

“He died?”

“Yeah, when I was eighteen. I had to call the ambulance to come and get him.  Found him in his living room sitting in his chair one day.  His wife died the year before, and no one was really around to keep an eye on the poor guy.  He gave me a key once when he went on vacation so that I could to come in and check on the plants, and then never asked for it back.  I don't know what would have happened if I hadn't noticed that he hadn't come out to get his Sunday paper.”

Steve looked down at his feet. He hadn’t thought about Mr. Dashall in a long time, even though the man had been such a big part of his life growing up. He had used to babysit when Steve’s Ma was working night shifts, sitting out in the hallway no matter how often Steve tried to coax him in. He always claimed that he loved it out there on the carpet, but Steve was pretty sure he only sat out there because he didn’t like the smell of boiled cabbage. Steve hadn’t liked the smell either, but it was either smell it or live in the hallway, so he had put up with it. They ate cabbage a lot when Steve was little. It was cheap, and even at the worst of times it was easy to get a hold of. His Ma had kept a small garden out back behind the apartment, helping the Manager’s wife keep things neat and tidy. There had always been a cabbage down there with his name on it even after his Ma had died, not that he had ever asked for one.  He had had enough cabbage to last him a lifetime.

“Steve?” Steve turned around, cocking his head to the side. Tony looked uncomfortable as hell, shifting amongst the covers. He was still shivering, rubbing at his bare skin with his hands to try and get some warmth back. Steve wondered how long Tony had been trapped in there in the shower, how long he had been terrorized by something that seemed larger than life. Exhaustion did some pretty crazy things to a person’s mind once it came a calling, and Tony sure looked like he needed some sleep. Bucky had seen funny shapes on the walls once after coming back from extended patrol duties, and Steve had spent more than a few occasions fending off shadowy dots in the dirt when he was sitting in the trenches waiting for combat to start up again; that was with the super soldier serum burning the midnight oil too. Seventy four hours was a hell of a long time to not sleep for a regular Joe, especially if said Joe spent most of his time chugging coffee and whiskey.

“Can you stick around? I mean, I know you’ve got stuff to do and everything, and I mean that’s fine. You can go; I’ll just… go to sleep.” Tony flopped backwards, shimmying across the comforter, tossing the towel over the side of the bed. “Thanks for helping me out.”

“I can stick around, if you want?” Steve said, sitting down on the bed again. “My Ma used to get nightmares sometimes, after we used to find one.” She had too, and they had always been pretty awful.

“She did?”

“Yeah. She had to keep the lights on and everything, because she swore she could feel them crawling up her arms and legs if she put the light out. Sometimes I used to sleep in her bed to keep her company.” Steve smiled fondly at the memory. His Ma had always teased him about having to stand guard over her; he hadn’t minded doing it if it meant her getting a good night’s sleep. The shifts she had been working had been bad enough as it was without her having to put up with crippling exhaustion too.

It had been years since he had fished a spider out of somewhere like this. With the way the war went about, there were more rats than spiders lurking in foxholes, and most of the fellows had kept to themselves about stuff like that. He swallowed hard, thinking about the trenches even though he didn’t want to; the dreams would come again tonight, he was sure of it. The book he had been reading earlier hadn’t been nearly enough of a distraction this time. He had been meaning to get Tony talking about the team training schedule, but he wasn’t going to be able to do it now, not with the dreams so close at hand.  It would have to wait until morning.

“I could stay here with you for a bit if you want?” Steve asked, watching Tony disappear under the covers completely. It would be nice to have some company for once, even if Tony didn’t really like him all that much.

“That’s… that’s…. Thanks. _Please_.” Tony murmured from under the covers. “I’d really appreciate it.”

Steve stretched out on the opposite side of the bed; he was surprised when Tony dumped the duvet over him, settling in for a few hours of staring at the ceiling. He would leave when Tony was asleep so that things didn’t get uncomfortable in the morning. That would probably be for the best.  After all, the last thing Tony would want to see in the morning was Steve's ugly mug. The lights dimmed in the room, the soft glow of the arc reactor bouncing off the white walls.

It was nice really. He hadn’t expected that.

“They’re going to have to give you another job title you know.” Tony said after a minute, rolling over to face Steve.

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” Tony smiled, his soft brown eyes looking so lovely in the blue light of the reactor, even if they were framed by dark bags. Steve flushed, not sure where that thought had come from. Sure, he had taken his fair share of looks at Tony, but he hadn’t really meant it to be… like _that_. Tony had taken his own looks, but it had been more of a sizing up thing. At least, Steve had thought it was a sizing up thing. Now he wasn’t really sure, because those eyes were staring at him and they were so warm and intense. He almost couldn’t look away. “I guess they should put Spider Slayer in there on top of Sentinel of Liberty.”

“Well… I didn’t really kill it. More like Spider Transporter.” Steve smiled. Tony really must have been exhausted if he was making bad jokes like this. He wasn’t usually this open and certainly never this unguarded around Steve.  This was almost chummy, almost like having well... a friend.

“Heh. I guess that works too.” Tony closed his eyes, pulling the blanket around him. “You’re alright, you know that?”

“I sure hope so.”

Tony cracked open an eye, chuckling. He reached out and poked Steve in the forehead. “You know, you’ve got a pretty good sense of humor when you actually blow the dust off of it.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I mean, when you’re not busy hating my guts, you’re not bad.”

“I don’t hate your guts.” Steve said in surprise. “What makes you think I hate your guts?”

“Oh I don’t know,” Tony said, rolling over to face the wall again. “Maybe it’s a little because we always argue about _everything_. I don’t even do that with Pepper, and she’s _actually_ threatened to beat me to death with her shoes once .”

Steve stared up at the ceiling, unsure. What was he supposed to say to that? Sometimes he really did just like to argue; it kept his mind fresh, and it made him think more tactically than normal. He had always found it a bit of a blessing in disguise, a reason to practice patience when he could be destroying punching bags instead. Did he really come across as that much of an asshole? Why hadn’t anyone said _anything_?

“Steve?”

He had always tried to be a strong leader, and strong leaders didn’t let people get away with bullshit no matter how trivial it was; let one thing go, and the rest of it went to hell. Was that wrong? Colonel Phillips had always been like that, and he had been getting things done for years before Steve had met him.  Sure, it had been tough, but the men had always been proud to have worked with him in the end.  Steve had tried to lead by his example. The Howling Commandos had been alright with it. They certainly hadn’t said anything.

“Steve?”

Steve wished that there had been some kind of training, that there had been some kind of book to read about leadership back then; he had flown by the seat of his pants during the war, doing what felt right, but was that really the right way to go about things? He supposed he could stop by the library and pick something up to see if there was anything new he had missed. According to Coulson, the library had a whole lot of new stuff these days, and they didn’t mind you taking books out for months at a time either.

“Hey,” Tony rolled over, his hand warm against Steve’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, alright? I didn’t mean to come out and say it like that.”

“That’s alright. I just wish someone had said something,” Steve sighed, scrubbing his hand over his face. “It would have been nice to know. Am I that bad?”

“What?”

“As a leader – am I that bad?”

“What? What are you talking about? You’re a great leader!” Tony squawked. “Who the hell said you weren’t? Was it Fury? Because I’m more than willing to super glue an eye patch over his _other_ eye in revenge.”

“Tony, I’m being serious here. If I’m not doing things right, I want to know. I want to be able to fix things, and if you guys can’t talk to me then I’m doing something wrong.” Steve said.

“You’re not – oh jesus. Steve, look.” Tony pressed his forehead to Steve’s shoulder; he was a bit damp still, but it was an alright sort of damp. “You don’t hate me, right?”

“I don’t hate you.”

“Then this was in _my_ head, not yours, ok?”

“Tony –”

“Just shut up and listen for a second will you? I’m busy trying to admit that I’ve been reading into things, so would you just stop arguing with me and let me admit that I’m wrong?” Tony snapped.

Steve stared harder up at the ceiling. Tony let out a snort, his face growing warmer against Steve's shoulder.

They both started laughing; Tony rolled into Steve’s chest, letting Steve’s hand card through his hair as they both wheezed away in relief. It felt good; better than anything else had since Steve had woken up from the ice. He could stay here forever like this, lying with Tony squashed up against him.  

Tony let out a sigh, settling against Steve with a leg thrown over Steve’s. He pulled the blanket up around his shoulders, closing his eyes.

“This is nice. We should do this more often.”

“I don’t know Tony. This seems like an awful lot of work.” Steve teased, ruffling Tony’s shower damp hair.

“And why may I ask is _this_ work?” Tony grumbled indignantly.

“Well first I had to fish a spider out of the bathroom, and then I had to carry you _all the way_ over here.”

“You’re such a whiner! I don’t think you’re taking your Spider Transporter job very seriously. I’m going to put in a complaint with Fury.”

“You do that.” Steve chuckled. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate the feedback.”

“Don’t think I won’t.” Tony grumbled, snuggling closer. “And Steve?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks. You can come here any night, alright?”

“Oh?”

“Yep. You’re the official Spider Transporter for the Avengers now. I don’t think my Spider Broom is doing a very good job anymore. I think I’m going to fire it.” Tony murmured sleepily. “You’ll take the job, right?  I'm a great employer.  You'll get awesome benefits and everything.”

“I see. Well, alright. In that case, I think I’ll stick around.”

Steve closed his eyes; Tony’s warmth would keep the dreams away. After all, how could ice claim anything so warm?  


End file.
